Awkward
by WildMeiLing
Summary: Usually, Joe is the one who makes other people nervous. Does Joe ever get nervous? If you're looking for plot, keep moving. You won't find it here. In fact, I'm not even sure what genre to choose for this.


_Playing with the idea that when Clarisse and Joe first met, they knew it was important and they each knew the other felt it, too. Even if it was a silent exchange through eye contact, I wondered if it would be possible for others who were present to pick up on it. So I came up with a way to make it a private moment._

 _Also, I think anyone, even Joe, might be a little intimidated by the prospect of going to work for royalty. Maybe? Just a teeny bit?_

 _And yes, I have other things to do in real life, but writing this stuff is fun. I can't resist._

 _It might be too short and fluffy for you to form an opinion, but if you happen to have one, I would love to hear it!_

* * *

Lost. _You have got to be kidding me._

When David, the head of royal security, had been called away during their tour, he had asked Joe if he could remember the way back.

 _Sure, not a problem._

Yeah, well… Problem.

He was supposed to meet back up with David in order to be introduced to his new charge, none other than the Queen herself. What kind of bodyguard shows up late to that? Even better, because he's lost in the palace?

He looked around, trying to get his bearings - something he should have done before he started walking. He realized now they had turned around slightly in this labyrinth of hallways, maybe rounded one extra corner or crossed through a new doorway. Whatever had happened, David had left Joe headed in a direction that was different from the one in which they had come.

He passed two maids traveling the opposite way. They cast openly curious looks toward him. Joe acknowledged the young women with a nod, curt but polite. Once there was some distance between them, he was certain he heard them giggling quietly to each other.

Whatever that meant…

If he had been driving, he would not have needed help. The great debate about why men never stop for directions? Completely moot in his case. Joe Romero was never lost.

But here he was, on his first official full day at the palace in Genovia, and he grudgingly had to admit it: he was lost.

He stopped in his tracks. Suddenly, there was no one around. A palace filled to the brim with staff, and not a soul was in sight. He looked back in the direction the giggling maids had gone, only to find they had disappeared. They had made him nervous, anyway. He was glad not to have to ask them.

Nervous? Why was he nervous? He had just signed on to protect the royal family - with his life, if necessary. Joe was never lost, and he was rarely nervous. He shook his head and decided to continue on for another minute. If his surroundings were still unfamiliar, or he ran into nobody helpful, he would turn back and retrace his steps.

He checked his watch. Twenty minutes until he was expected to report to Her Majesty's office. He quickened his pace.

Another fifteen seconds or so of walking took him by a large, open doorway. He was almost past it when he all but skidded to a halt. He backed up for a second look.

It was the portrait gallery. He and David were supposed to pass through here, but hadn't made it quite this far.

She was standing with her back to him. Her arms were apparently crossed in front of her body. Her shoulders were relaxed and her weight was on one foot, causing her hip on that side to jut out slightly. She had short hair that, if it was her natural color, hinted at a fair complexion. He sensed she would be well-suited to pastels. However, this day she had chosen an impeccable ensemble including gray slacks and a black silk blouse. A smartly tailored gray jacket to complete the look was probably draped over the back of a chair in some office somewhere.

She stood in front of a large painting with her head inclined to one side. She seemed to be studying the painting intently. Judging from the subject's style, he had been a monarch of Genovia, but his reign had ended some time far in the past.

The painting - it was okay.

Alright, it was terrible.

The woman, even from this view, was beautiful. And he did need to ask directions, after all.

He walked quietly through the hall. He wasn't trying to sneak up on her, but she was so lost in thought, he didn't want to startle her either. He stopped a couple feet away from her. From the way the tilt of her head shifted slightly, he knew she was aware of his presence. Her shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.

He was intruding.

No turning back now. He clasped his hands behind him, trained his gaze on the painting, and opted for what he hoped would pass as a cheeky sort of charm.

"Definitely crooked."

She turned her head to the side, but stopped short of looking over her shoulder. He was afforded a partial view of her profile. "Excuse me?"

Her voice was like music, and this spacious, high-ceilinged room had the acoustics of a concert hall. Nearly entranced, he almost forgot where he was.

"Unless you hung it up. In that case, it looks fine. You did a wonderful job."

Without altering her pose, she spun around gracefully, and he caught a bemused look on her lovely face before everything changed. For both of them.

Their eyes locked, and hers - the most gorgeous blue he had ever seen - widened just barely. He could almost hear her breath catch. He didn't know what he looked like to her, but her reaction mirrored what he felt. He wondered if her heart, like his, stuttered, then sped up.

If they were meeting at a bar or in a park - anywhere else - he would have been encouraged by this silent exchange. He would have pursued her, assured that whatever this was, they both felt it. But here, he had the vague sense he was on dangerous ground.

It was only a matter of moments, really, and they passed, allowing Joe and the woman to each regain their composure which, truthfully, had just slipped the slightest bit. In the clearing of the air, it occurred to Joe that she looked familiar.

The bemused expression was back in place. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Mr.…?"

"Joseph Romero, but everyone calls me Joe." She held out her hand to him, and he took it automatically in a handshake. Immediately, he thought it had been held level rather than angled to fit in his, and perhaps she had expected him to kiss her hand instead of shake it. Was it an old-fashioned custom still followed in Genovia? Or maybe it was palace etiquette? Should one always kiss the back of a woman's hand when introduced to her in a royal setting? The nervous feeling from before resurfaced, and he found no comfort in the way she bit back a smile. "I, uh -… I just joined the security staff. I have been hired as a bodyguard for Her Majesty." He suddenly realized he was still holding her hand. He let go of it quickly, and to cover up his self-consciousness, turned to survey the myriad portraits on the expansive walls. "I suppose she's up there somewhere?"

She waited until he returned his eyes to her, then motioned with a dip of her head. "Right there."

He looked to the picture that he now faced. "That's funny. You know, you look an awful lot like…" His eyes closed slowly as painful reality dawned on him. He felt her move behind him and lean in close to his shoulder.

"So I've been told," she replied, the mirth evident in her tone.

He opened his eyes again and took a deep breath. "You are the queen, aren't you?"

"I am."

Of course, she was.

He had done his homework. He had read a book on the history of Genovia. He had sifted through numerous articles pertaining to the country's political infrastructure and economic climate. He had seen pictures of King Rupert and Queen Clarisse. It was just that the pictures had failed to capture the depth of her beauty, nor had they relayed a hint of the spirit that played about the edges of her regal façade.

And in all fairness, her pictures and her painted portrait before him depicted a woman with a great deal more hair piled elegantly on top of her attractive head.

"Nice haircut."

"Thank you. It's taken some getting used to, but I rather like it."

He turned around. "I would like to take this opportunity to tell you just how much I have enjoyed my time here at the palace."

The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought her amusement. "Have you?"

"I have."

"What will you do now?"

He took in a deep breath and heaved a sigh. "Probably go back to Spain. Move in with my parents. Get my old job back."

Her eyes danced. "What were you doing before?"

"I have been in the military until very recently. The last job I had in my hometown was walking old Senora Alverez's golden retriever, who was also old." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "That was awhile ago. I'm not certain my client is still around."

"The retriever?"

"Or Senora Alvarez, come to think of it."

"Well, I am sure I speak for the entire royal family when I say we are grateful for your time spent in service to the Crown, and we wish you luck in all your future endeavors."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He bowed low before beginning his retreat, then stopped. He whirled around, his expression apologetic and his tone confessional. "The thing is, I would be on my way out, except I have no idea how on earth to get there."

The laugh she had been holding back finally burst forth. She walked past him and paused to throw him a backward glance. "Follow me, Joseph."

 _That's it. Just a little moment that amused me. I hope it amuses you, too. Back to real life. (sigh)_


End file.
